#434 - DILD - 6:24AM I open a package from the mail and find this beautiful .357 magnum with a case of shells. I awkwardly load a few directly into the back of the gun and realize one shell is actually a large nail. I throw it away and discover it has a magazine clip. I ponder the possibility of actually getting a super awesome pistol in the mail. I'm amusing it's a birthday present, but who from? Maybe, it was sent to the wrong address. I check the package and it has my name and address correctly printed. Do they even send guns in the mail? Oh well, I'm just glad I got it. Hmmm. Things like this never happen. I should nose plug out of good practice. I blow through and don't want to believe. I do it several more times and become really disappointed that I don't get the gun after all, but decide to go ahead and enjoy both lucidity and my handgun. I look around and it seems to be some sort of apartment merged with past houses I've lived in. I don't thing about this too much as I point my gun looking for something to shoot. I see A from work and tell her to "Freeze". I pull the trigger, but only get a *click*. Damn, it's not working. Ok maybe I really don't want to shoot a co-worker DC. I point the gun around the apartment trying to shoot but only getting dry clicks. Sadly, the dream starts to darken, and I have to recreate a scenario. Shooting zombies is probably ideal. With that thought, a couple lurch at me out of the void. The sound of the gun fire is disappointing, but I blast an unrealistically large hole the size of a frying pan clean through each torso. I, and both zombies, pause to stare at the damage with mild surprise.
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